


Waking Nightmare

by Soaring_Ren (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adult Victim, Angst and Tragedy, Depression, Implied/Referenced Blackmail, M/M, Minor-on-Adult Rape, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 20:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15275793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Soaring_Ren
Summary: Shiro would always love his brother.He swore to protect the thirteen-year old and raise him right, until that night when something went horribly wrong. Shiro never expected to be the victim of sexual assault. He never expected to be victim to his brother, and now every nightmare became a waking reality. Keith raped him. Shiro was a victim to the boy he swore to protect . . . his life was over.





	Waking Nightmare

_Searing pain . . ._

_It burned through every inch of flesh. He was being torn in two, as he instinctively raised his legs with a deep ache undulating in his muscles, and he cried . . . he cried . . . tears merged with sweat, stinging and itching and hurting, as they streamed down his head. They fell into his hairline. They soaked the pillow. It was too dark to see, with tears distorting the shadows, but there was someone over him . . . touching him . . . violating him . . ._

_Shiro shook the remnants of sleep, as he groaned and bucked away. A hand pressed on his chest and forced him in place, while he sobbed and choked on bile that clung to the back of his throat, and he spluttered and drooled while the pain increased. The person thrust inside him. He listened and heard a familiar sound . . . Keith . . . no . . . no, no, no . . . this was a dream, a bad dream, and Keith would never hurt him or betray him. Keith was just a kid! He was innocent and loyal and his violence never – never – . . . it never descended into_ this _._

_It was difficult to focus. Every limb was heavy and weak, while his head swam and the last of his dreams faded from his memory, and above him the pale skin of his half-brother drifted into his vision, with mouth wide in an open ‘O’ and constant moans escaping his lips. No. Shiro didn’t want this! He – He always planned to wait . . . to save himself . . . he threw a hand upward to Keith’s throat . . . grasping . . . holding . . . Keith laughed and spat:_

_‘You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?’_

_Shiro dropped his hand with a choked sob. Keith was just a child . . . barely any hair above the penis that thrust inside him, voice barely broken as he grunted as the sound merged with slapping balls against buttocks . . . something was struck inside him . . . arousal . . . Shiro clawed at the sheets with sharp nails . . . ‘no, no, no, please, stop, no, no’ . . . sickness, nausea, disgust . . . pain that never ended, humiliation at being seen in his weakest state . ._

_He wept until tears ran with blood._

_* * *_

A knock sounded.

It reverberated around the bedroom. Shiro flung his body upright in his chair, as he panted for breath and stared with wide eyes to the closed door, and – as his heart pounded loud in his ears – he swallowed back the rising acid in his throat. He slowly stood on shaking feet, as he stumbled towards the door with a wince of pain. A dull ache vibrated over his lower back. It was more than he could bear, but made far worse when the door-handle slowly lowered.

Shiro ran the last few steps, slamming his body against the wood. He was light-headed. He could barely see past his double-vision. A hand ran along the lock to double-check, as someone tried to open the door only to find it impossible, and – laughing through his relief – tears ran down his cheeks and he ran his hands over his face. He waited until a sigh echoed through the door, until he stepped away with hyperventilating breaths. The handle was tried once more, until another sigh trickled through the wood, and someone called:

“Hey, Keith called me. He’s worried about you.”

 _Hunk_. Shiro knew that voice anywhere.

He spun around and fiddled with the locks, until – with a curse – he managed to fling open the door and reveal a familiar face . . . Hunk looked afraid . . . dressed in casual attire, as if dragged away from an evening with Shay, and with brown skin pale with concern. Shiro snatched at his wrist and yanked him inside. He snapped closed the locks right away, before pulling his friend across the master bedroom towards the closed windows.

Hunk said nothing, even as his eyebrows furrowed. The bedroom was in disarray . . . bed deprived of sheets and pillows,  bare mattress slashed until stuffing and springs poked through . . . Shiro paced and panted, as he kicked at the stray shards of a mirror. There was not a single photo-frame not wrenched from the walls and stamped underfoot, while old keepsakes were smashed unrecognisable, and the _en suite_ was equally upended, so that Shiro knew that he looked crazy . . . broken . . . he collapsed onto his knees and wept.

A few footsteps echoed through the bedroom. Hunk slowly slid down onto the carpet, as he reached out to take Shiro’s hand with a gentle squeeze, and his larger frame provided a distraction, as Shiro stared aimlessly at the folds of skin and creases of material. A cold silence washed over them, until Hunk reached out with a smile . . . _fingers pressed to the sweat of his chest, palm rested over his adrenaline-stricken heart_. . .  Shiro slapped his hand with a cry of pain. Hunk jerked away with wide eyes, as rapidly blinked.

Shiro shook his head over and over . . . ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ . . . everything spun around him, as he climbed to his feet and pressed his fingers to his temples, and he panted for breath until Hunk stood with hands raised in a gesture of surrender. Tears pricked at Hunk’s eyes, as his lip trembled in a forced smile. Shiro wept again, hunched over with his arms clasped around his stomach, as the terrible pain behind returned. Hunk whispered:

“What the hell happened?”

Hunk slowly walked forward, before taking his arm and guiding him towards the chair, and – gently easing him down – Hunk fussed about in old cupboard and cabinets, until he came across a quilt hand-stitched by Shiro’s grandmother in Japan. It was draped over his body; Hunk tucked it in around him, before finding a footstool and lifting Shiro’s legs into a reclining position, and stood before him with hands tented before his mouth. A small tear ran down Shiro’s cheek, as his lips trembled and he finally found his voice.

“He raped me,” said Shiro.

The words lingered. Hunk stumbled back and hissed in breath, before he dropped his hands with a loud slap of emotion, and he paced with a hand buried deep into his brown-black hair, as Shiro watched with a lazy eye and lack of concentration. He heard music playing outside on the patio, where the charred remains of the old sheets were being swept away by a hard brush, and the stench of smoke somehow made its way through closed windows. Hunk asked:

“Who raped you, Shiro?”

“Keith . . .”

Shiro pulled his legs into a foetal position, as he grasped the quilt close to his chin, and – with a shuddered sigh – he strove to look anywhere except the bed . . . _come warm and wet down his thigh, staining the sheets with swirls of blood and lubricant, while the cramped muscle of his leg slowly relaxed and slid down, down, down . . ._ Hunk collapsed onto the carpet. A loud thud echoed out, as Shiro smiled and rolled his head. Outside music played, while the last of the ashes and charred pieces of fabric were swept away. Shiro gave a broken laugh.

“It was Keith,” said Shiro.

“H-How?” Hunk asked. “Keith is like . . . thirteen.”

“I – I – I went to bed after a long day.” Shiro half-closed his bloodshot eyes. “The – The Garrison have been working me pretty hard lately . . . Iverson asked me to host some revision classes, while detention was twice the size this week, and – and – and I just . . . I came home and Keith was great. He made me tea and did all the chores . . . I was grateful . . .

“I went to bed and crashed. I – I woke up . . . I woke up to him . . . to him inside me . . . i-it was the worst pain I ever experienced, like the skin inside was being torn in half, and I – I just . . . I saw him above me . . . I thought I was still dreaming, like a waking nightmare. Do – Do you –? I don’t know . . . I feel _dirty_ , Hunk! I feel like his hands are still on me and touching me and seeing me . . . seeing me in a way I never wanted him to see . . .

“That’s always going to be in his head, isn’t it? He – He can replay it in his mind . . . that one thing – _that one fucking thing_ – I wanted to keep for myself, until I met the right person, and he – he – he has that! I can’t get clean, Hunk. I tried washing it away this morning, but it won’t get clean! I feel it under my skin. I – I want it to go away, but he took it from me. He _took_ from me something that I thought was mine . . . I – I can’t – I just want –

“I waited for him to leave. He came inside and he left. I – I locked the door, then I sat in the shower and just . . . just . . . I scrubbed until I saw blood, but it didn’t help, Hunk. I – I then – I then took the clothes and burned them . . . I burned everything outside . . . the – the smoke . . . it felt like it was finally all gone, you know? Only it wasn’t . . . it wasn’t. . .”

“Shiro, you could have just destroyed all the evidence.”

“You want me to turn him in?”

Shiro pressed his fists to his temples. A stray photograph rested on the floor by the chair, torn in two to reveal a blue-grey eye and a cadet uniform of the youngest grade, and the arm of an officer – muscled and confident – lay draped over his shoulder, as a reminder of the old days when Shiro swore to always protect the brother abandoned by mother and pre-deceased by father. If he turned him into the police, it would be a betrayal of all he promised.

The photograph continued to stare back; Hunk followed his gaze and snatched it into his hands, before ripping it into shreds and tossing it like confetti into a nearby wastepaper basket, and Shiro stared aimlessly at the pieces falling . . . falling . . . the ache in his behind was sore and strong, enough that it brought him back to the night before. Shiro screwed shut his eyes, as he drew in deep and long breaths, but world spun and all hope died. The rush of adrenaline in his veins burst like cold water poured over warm flesh, as he murmured in a daze:

“No one would believe a kid could do that to an adult.”

Hunk hummed and busied himself about the room. He folded clothes and picked up stray pieces of glass, while flipping the upturned mattress in hopes of showing a fresher side, and – on sight of a small red stain – swore and flipped it back with a curled lip, before dropping onto it and burying his head into his hands. Shiro wanted to laugh, but his throat was raw and his mouth was dry, and the only sound that came out was a high-pitched sob. He said nothing, as he leaned to the side to avoid pressure on his behind. Hunk asked in a low voice:

“How – How did he – er. . .”

“You mean how did he fucking rape me?”

The sun outside was strong. It shone through the opened windows, as the curtain rail lay broken on the floor with pieces of plaster, and Shiro wondered if he could stand to see Keith out there . . . going about his day, contented after the rape . . . where were the guilt or shame? Shiro let out a broken laugh, almost silent, as he remembered being wracked with guilt over coming home late or forgetting a baseball game . . . Hunk said in a whisper:

“You are _way_ stronger than him, dude.”

“I – I couldn’t hurt him,” said Shiro. “Does – Does that mean I wanted it? I – I don’t think I did . . . it disgusted me, made me feel sick, but how could I punch my younger brother in the face or claw at his hips or kick him in the spine? I wanted to . . . _god, how I wanted to_. . . I j-just remembered promising dad . . . promising to keep Keith safe . . .

“He – _fuck_ – he kept h-hitting this spot inside me, too. I – I came at one point . . . he was mocking me and laughing at me and telling me I wanted it, but I _didn’t_ want it, so why the fuck did I come? _What is wrong with me_? I wanted to strangle him. I pictured it in my head. So – So why did I just curl up like a fucking child? I remember how my knees felt against my forehead, remember how my nails dug into my legs . . . how the come itched on my stomach.”

“Look, Shiro,” murmured Hunk. “It’s not your fault, okay? Shay works a lot with abused kids, part of being a social worker, and you know what they say a lot . . . that they ‘enjoyed’ what happened, so it couldn’t have been rape. It’s an involuntary reaction. It doesn’t mean –”

“Who orgasms through a fucking _rape_?”

“A – A few even say that they didn’t fight back.” Hunk blinked back his tears. “I didn’t realise until Shay told me in tears one night, just needing someone to vent to, but apparently – like – when you’re confronted with a stressful stimulus, you either hold tight or let go . . . I think she meant some people fight, but some people go limp.”

Shiro said nothing. He watched as Hunk flung himself forward and paced, each time with his head low and head buried into his hands, and he looked as if he were losing himself, as if he sought to hide from the dark realisation. Shiro brought his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them with eyes staring emptily at the ceiling, and he wondered if there would be an end to his fear and pain, even as his lower back throbbed and his behind seared with a sharp pain. Hunk stopped just before the bed, with hands dropped at his sides.

“It’s a defence mechanism,” said Hunk. “If you go limp, you’re not a threat. I hear a few kids think it’s consent, because we teach them ‘no means no’, and so Shay teaches them instead that ‘yes means yes’. If you didn’t say ‘yes’, you didn’t fucking consent.”

“I – I didn’t raise a rapist . . . I didn’t make Keith like this . . .”

“This _isn’t_ your fault, Shiro. It’s not your fault!”

Hunk ran to Shiro’s side. He dropped down onto his knees, before snatching at a cold and callused hand and yanking it from beneath the quilt, and – placing a chaste kiss to the soft skin – he squeezed tight and forced a bright smile. It reached the corners of his eyes, revealing lines of age that added wisdom beyond his years. The small touch made him tense . . . _‘yeah, I knew you’d like this’_. . . Shiro yanked his hand away.

“You have to tell someone,” said Hunk.

Shiro laughed. He pushed back the quilt and stood with an obvious sway, while Hunk half-rose in turn in an attempt to support his weight, but Shiro pushed away from him and strode towards the window that overlooked the patio in the garden. Keith was below. _Keith_. He scrubbed at the scorch marks left on tiles, while wiping the soot from his forehead with obvious sighs, and then – as he looked up – he saw Shiro . . . he smiled and blew a kiss . . . Shiro could barely hold back the acid in his stomach. He wanted to throw up.

“No,” muttered Shiro.

“No?” Hunk asked. “I – I mean – . . . _why not_?”

“He says that if I tell anyone -?” Shiro licked away his tears. “He said he’ll tell them that _I_ raped _him_. . . you – you’ve seen the news, Hunk! You know that even a _whisper_ of a sexual abuse scandal is enough to get me on suspension, and – even if they prove me innocent – I’ll probably never be allowed to work in the Garrison again. T-That job is all I have in life; I love teaching those kids, I love making a difference, and I love helping them.

“If he takes that away -? I could end up in jail being raped daily by strangers . . . I could end up on a register made to live miles away from this place, where the Garrison is a central pillar of the community . . . I could end up with ‘paedophile’ written on my door, bricks through my window, being beaten up in the streets . . . _I didn’t do anything, Hunk_!”

Hunk came to stand at his side. A hand wrapped around his shoulder, while he trembled and shook and his lip wobbled as if he were a child again, and – as his eyes watered – Keith waved with a nervous smile, clearly concerned . . . _‘if you tell anyone, I’ll tell them that you raped me – no one will believe you’_. . . _‘keep your mouth shut, Shiro’ . . . ‘you better keep your door unlocked at night from now on, if you know what’s good for you’_. . . Hunk held him tight with a forced smile. The pain boiled and bubbled within his chest.

“I didn’t do anything,” whispered Shiro.

The pain finally spilled out once more. Shiro grasped at Hunk and wept in earnest, as he clung to the yellow fabric and buried his face into the crook of a wide neck, and soon saliva and mucus and tears merged to stain the fabric, as his chest tightened and blood ran cold. It was too much. _It was too much!_ Shiro slid down Hunk and dropped to the floor. He clung at the belt for balance, as he wept and chanted: ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry’.

“Okay,” said Hunk. “Okay, we’ll deal with this.”

“I’m . . . I’m done, Hunk.”

“Let me just talk to Keith, okay?”

Shiro finally let go and collapsed. He fell on the carpet, curled into a foetal position, while Hunk swore and snatched at the quilt, and soon it was draped over his body while a cushion was shoved beneath his head. A cool draught blew in from the _en suite_ , while he cast blurred and bloodshot eyes over the white tiles . . . upturned bottles leaked out, razor blades glistened in the sunlight, water slowly receded in the heat . . . Shiro was limp . . . broken.

“I’ll be right back, Shiro,” swore Hunk.

 _Footsteps_. They were rushed and panicked, headed towards the stairwell and towards Keith, and how long until Keith poisoned his mind with lies and false tears? Shiro used every last ounce of strength to pull himself into a crawl, as he moved on all fours towards the bathroom with choked laughter and shakes of his head . . . this would be his only chance to make the pain go away . . . one blade, one lock of the door . . . they were talking outside in loud voices, arguing and gossiping and talking, but it wouldn’t be long . . . it wouldn’t be long.

* * *

_‘Shiro? Shiro, open the door right now!’_

_The blade was cold on his skin._

_It hung heavy like a reminder on his wrist, as he let it hang there with a lazy indifference. It would be easy to push down. It would be easy to run it back. Shiro smiled and leaned back against the bedroom door, while tears streamed down his cheeks and tasted bitter on his lips, and he trembled with the dark realisation that there was no way forward. The memories lingered and buzzed and screamed in his mind . . . playing over and over and over . . ._

_There was nothing to stop Keith raping him again. There was nothing to stop a stray accusation ending his career. There was only despair . . . pain . . . hopelessness . . . every beat of his heart was loud and echoed, pounding inside a hollow chest. He was dizzy. Nauseous. Keith lived in the same house . . . no one would believe him . . . no one would believe a thirteen-year old capable of attacking a twenty-five year old . . . he would be a creep, a pervert, a liar . . . Shiro panted for breath, as he choked back on tears._

_He pushed the blade against the skin. A sharp sting brought a hiss of breath, as he quickly yanked down his hand and followed the blue vein, and – dropping the blade – he yelped and watched as nothing happened at first . . . a silvery parting of two flaps of skin, beads of blood, a long red line . . . a gush of blood. It was surprisingly numb. He laughed with relief, as finally an end was in sight . . . he didn’t want to die . . . he didn’t want to die like this. . ._

_‘Shiro,’ screamed Hunk. ‘Keith’s calling for an ambulance!’_

_He just wanted the pain to end . . . to feel relief . . ._

_‘Let me in, please! Shiro, please.’_

_He struggled to hold the blade in his other hand. He brought it to the flesh of the other arm and jammed it deep into the skin, before tugging at it with a series of awkward pulls, until finally both forearms bled freely and his head grew light . . . no more violation, no more pain . . . fear . . . humiliation . . . the door pounded behind him, vibrating with every strike as his arms dropped limply to his sides . . . no more pain. Shiro slowly slid onto the floor, head striking the carpet . . . balls of dust under the bed . . . the last thing he’d ever see . . ._

_‘If you don’t open the door, I’ll break it down, Shiro!’_

_Hunk was panting for breath and pacing back and forth. Keith was talking rapidly with tears to the emergency operator. They were panicked . . . scared . . . Shiro smiled, longing to feel only fear instead of dread and despair . . . an empty blackness that consumed all else . . . he wanted it to all be over. He wanted it to stop. Every muscle grew heavy and hot, while his eyelids fell lower and lower . . . numbness . . . fatigue . . . life fading into dreams . . ._

_The world finally fell black._


End file.
